


Wish You Just Speak to Me

by doctormissy



Category: Doctor Who, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Lords & Ladies, Bondlock, Established Relationship, F/M, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, London Underground, M/M, Time Lord James Bond, Time Lord Q, mentions of polyamory and past relationships, the OC is minor don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7850833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormissy/pseuds/doctormissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond and Q are just two Time Lords who evaded the War and survived because of a mission Rassilon himself had sent them on and landed on Earth, where they started living and working for the Secret Intelligence Service as agent 007 and the Quartermaster.<br/>What seems as a regular mission on defusing bombs in the Underground turns to be something utterly different, because the bombs are Gallifreyan. And not just that - MI6 cooperates with outer forces on the task and the backup is no one else than Bond's first girlfriend ever, a Time Lady whom he considered dead and never thought of seeing her again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Just Speak to Me

**Author's Note:**

> This follows events from part 15 and 16 of the series Gallifreyan I write. No need to read it, just know everyone's Time Lord, and also it's a literal parallel universe, which isn't noticeable in any way besides old M still being M and mentions of Holmes brothers. (Actually, a parallel universe of a parallel universe. It's complicated.) Just thought I'd write it from James' POV. 
> 
> Title from Asking Alexandria's 'The Black'.  
> 

_Oh god I wish you just speak to me_  
_Black is all that I see_  
_Speak to me_  
_You used to be all that I needed_

_– Asking Alexandria, The Black_

 

**17th Feb 2015**

James Bond strode through bright white, oddly crowded corridors of Six Headquarters in Vauxhall, wearing a sharp look combined with a determined poker face. As always, one of his customary neat, tailored suits were on; his time it was a dark grey one with a dark blue cravat and a white button-down. He checked whether is his pistol fully charged and ready for eventual use. 

He walked past Moneypenny’s office and many others, until he got to the lifts. He needed to get downstairs – to Q-Branch. 

He returned from M’s. He and every other available Double-Oh got an assignment off their usual work status – it was technically MI5’s job to do – but it was national emergency, a state of highest distress. 

Britain was facing a terrorist attack. There were alleged bombs in the Tube and train stations all over London. Both M and Mr Holmes suspected it was ISIL. They sounded and looked as if they knew all along the line, however the agents have been informed about such crisis only now. 

Bond thought it was the boffins-from-Q-Branch’s job to do, and not the Double-Ohs’. He was sure the Quartermaster could disable them all on his computer sitting in their bed at home and it would took him one minute in all, yet it was M’s orders and those everyone must obey, no matter the circumstances. 

Speaking of Q – after the lift stopped twice, Bond arrived to the kingdom of screens and computers, accompanied by 002, 005 and 009. He noticed 003 and 0010 were already there. They stood at the touch-screen table and carefully listened to something the head of Q-Branch explained to them. His spindly fingers skittered around the table as he familiarised the agents with schemes of the assignment and showed them how to defuse various types of bombs, as if they have never done it before. Defusing a bomb was a part of the mandatory training and every agent had faced it more than once in their life. 

Q’s face was highly concentrated on the task and sometimes, he licked his lips absentmindedly, as he often did when he was engrossed in work. He did that since the Academy, since the complex time experiments they enrolled for together and since the first ride in a Time and Relative Dimensions in Space.

Bond and the other Double-Ohs approached the group apace and joined it at the table. When Q caught a glimpse of Bond, he paused talking and smiled at his partner – or actually lawful husband, according to Gallifreyan laws; however, the marriage was void on Earth and they did nothing to change that yet – sheepishly. Bond wanted to snog him right on the spot, though they had an audience of at least twenty people and so he could not. That would be inappropriate, although everyone knew they were together even before his dear Quintus took up the position of the Quartermaster. 

“I am glad to have all of you here, at least someone is punctual. We still are waiting for 004 and 008,” Q announced as the four newcomers encircled the screen. The lift’s door has opened again and two women in clicking heels and also very pricy costumes started walking toward Q. He could start giving instructions now.

“This task is of the utmost importance, agents. The entire country depends on you, you must know that, so please don’t mess up anything this time.” He pointed his gaze at 007. “There are four highly explosive bombs situated in St Pancras station, King’s Cross station and Underground stations Westminster and Baker Street. I must confess I hasn’t been able to locate their exact position yet, which is something I am not proud of, nevertheless I’ll keep on trying.” Q paused for a moment and sighed. 

“Anyway, I am sending you in in pairs for better efficiency: 003 and 005 to Westminster, 002 and 007 to Baker Street, 004 and 0010 to St. Pancras, 008 and 009 to King’s Cross. Always have on mind that all the stations are in operation and full of people who have no idea what is going on, so be inconspicuous, for heaven’s sake. That is all I can say on this matter, you are dismissed.”

It was twenty past seven, high time to go. All agents went for the lifts, but Bond had suddenly stopped, turned on his heel and returned to the other Time Lord, who had sent him a telepathic message about staying for a while longer. Any other time, he would welcome and appreciate this gesture, but not this morning. He really should be getting on a car with 002 and heading for Baker Street station, since it was quite far from Vauxhall. Across half the city. 

“James, I couldn’t say that in front of the others, but I’m afraid I have a suspicion the bombs are of Gallifreyan origin,” Q almost whispered so only Bond could hear what he has just said. _Oh_.

“How the hell is that possible? Gallifrey is gone,” riposted James matter-of-factly, looking directly into Q’s eyes, as if he tried to link with his mind and get answers. Because that _was_ a fact, a simple fact every single being in the universe registered at some point of their existence. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know, James, and that’s not a good omen. It is a war-time technology, and that’s even worse. Proceed extremely carefully, take one of the sonic devices from the vault and, what’s most important, don’t tell anyone; they have to think it is PETN or something. I told the other agents how to defuse the bombs, so they can manage the task as well as you. However, it’s dangerous; more dangerous than any of the field missions they or you ever was sent on,” the Quartermaster replied with a warning, leaning on the table’s edges. He had his serious, frowned face on.

That was rather a surprise for Bond to process. How could Gallifreyan tech get on Earth, to some terrorists? And was it ISIL at all? 

It _couldn’t_ be. There was something more intricate going on in London (again) and they were going to find what, no matter the price. If it were another megalomaniac plan of taking over one city and then the planet itself, he was going to murder that person himself. 

Only—if it weren’t his mother’s piece of work. More than one sign indicated it could have been another one of her mischievous plans she hasn’t quit trying to perform even after centuries. 

He did not even have to ask and Q answered his thoughts, “I am on 90 percent sure it wasn’t ISIL, yes. And now go, dear.” 

Bond straightened himself, rewarded Q with a quick kiss on his lips and walked away to the car park with usual elegance. Q observed his husband until he got out of his sight and then got back to scanning and analysing the extraordinary bombs that shouldn’t exist whatsoever, let alone be placed at train stations, ready to cause the biggest explosions London has ever seen. No, not London. Planet Earth. 

Possessing by knowledge of measure of damage a temporal or pulsar bomb was able to create, James quickened his pace. He couldn’t waste a second. Yes, M said the ‘terrorists’ plan on activating the bombs tomorrow, 18th February, but anyway, one never knew what could happen with a sensitive and unstable explosives at busy stations.

Bond found agent Murray waiting for him inside one of the company SUVs rather impatiently and when he opened the door and sat next to the driver, he was greeted by a sarcastic, yet annoyed note, “Can’t stay away from Q even when facing a national crisis, can you? But it’s unprofessional and you as a Double-Oh should realise Queen and Country always goes first and stop acting bloody childish, Bond. This isn’t the office, this is _field work_!” 

Bond couldn’t tell him why the Quartermaster had delayed his arrival or what he had told him. Sometimes he understood his mother’s attitude toward humans. Especially in the field, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, he would let Q cause a sudden traffic jam on the ways to the stations, use his teleporting bracelet and did it all by himself if he could, and he would also smack 002 for comments like that.

002 started up the car and set off for central London. The ride didn’t take that long and was considerably smooth, given it was morning and half of the Londoners went to work. Bond thought it was probably a work of his brilliant Quintus and cracked a thin smile. 

002 parked the car behind the corner, only few metres from an entrance to the Underground. Both agents rushed to the stairs, avoiding other people heading downstairs. Although they both wore the expensive, tailored suits and coats that were a basic garb of a Double-Oh and almost ran through the subway, they were so-so inconspicuous among other passengers who looked the same. Just as Q emphatically told them to be. 

When they stood in the hallway, where tourniquets and ticket points stood, precluding a smooth way downstairs, 007 activated the earpiece in his right ear and asked Q for updates. He hoped he had discovered the bombs’ location by now. He had one of the Probes, so it shouldn’t be that problematic. 

And that reminded him he ought to have one in his jacket’s pocket as well, if he remembered it correctly and hadn’t replaced it. He unbuttoned his coat and shoved one hand inside the pocket to search for the genius electronic device that was the last piece from home he managed to keep. Well, that and few pieces of Q’s equipment were the last items they still had since they left Gallifrey decades ago. 

He found it, and sighed with relief. That was good news. And what Q said was even better news, _“I managed to localise the bomb. It’s somewhere in Bakerloo line, presumably in the rails. Search the entire premises. Oh, and one more thing I forgot to mention earlier, you cooperate with outer forces on this task, someone from Mr Holmes. She is to arrive at 7:55. I have no further details, I apologise.”_

On the other hand, it might not be that good news. If they are sending someone outside Six, and moreover, someone who has no idea what are they dealing with… 

Q did not need to say he was over, Bond knew, although they were miles apart. If a Time Lord is connected to another psychically, the link could never possibly be severed.

And that just was the thing. He sensed a trace of another one, or more, Gallifreyans round him. Something he hasn’t felt since the last time the Doctor and the Mistress landed in the city again. Yet this time it felt different, not like the waves his Time Lord parents transmitted. It was something older. 

And there wasn’t only one. Q and he weren’t alone on the planet after all—but it was significantly bad news. Catching that signal could possibly mean one thing – that it was the terrorists who planted the ever threatening explosives in the Tube. 

“Thank you for the information, Q,” he replied and turned to the other agent, informing him about the bomb’s position. They both headed to the security guard and showed him their SIS IDs. He opened one passing for them and let them go through without questions. 

Q said Bakerloo line, but he didn’t say which platform or passage, and that meant searching through the entire station indeed. The agents decided to check the Elephant & Castle platform first. As they stood on the escalator, Bond checked his watch. It said it was 7:56, and that meant that that ‘backup’ should be there already, if the woman knew where the bomb was. But if she was one of Mycroft Holmes’… Anyway, he didn’t like the thought of putting so many innocent and ordinary humans in danger. 

Bond fortunately stood behind Murray, so he could pull his Probe out and scan the surroundings for presence of Gallifreyan technology. It should be able to find it, despite it was an older mark. At least it was small and could fit his hand just like a smartphone. No ordinary human would notice. 

007 activated the device and after pressing few icons (in Gallifreyan) on the touch screen, it had launched a scan. He needed to point it everywhere round him; it worked on the same principle as sonic devices. 

As they got off the escalator and walked straight ahead, 002 had turned to Bond and saw the peculiar little machine in Bond’s hand. 

“What’s that?” he asked. He never saw it before.

“Just something of Q’s,” Bond brushed the agent off with an answer that was actually half true, because it was Q who gave it to him almost a century ago. 

He continued pointing it at the corridors, and when it did not register a thing, they had moved to the platform and rails. It wasn’t hidden in the walls then. 

There was no train, but one was arriving in two minutes, as the sign indicated in large, yellow numbers. There weren’t many people either, fortunately. Bond could activate the searching programme again. 

They stood at the end of the platform, where no one else was, gazing into the dark tunnel. 

Although Bond stood with his back to the rest of open space, he would swear he saw an X-ray beam that looked and felt suspiciously like one of sonic device’s settings. That was strange, he thought, and forgot about it. He did not want to even think about the option that another Time Lord was there with them, waiting to activate the explosives earlier. 

And however he didn’t, a familiar and somehow soothing feeling of a Time Lord’s mind crept into his own stronger and stronger by every second. It was that slight tingling on his skin and the unmistakable scent of ionic time particles he always felt when he was near his Q that made his hearts ache for home and his brain affirm there truly was a Time Lord. 

Bond would have lost in his own thoughts, if he suddenly wasn’t interrupted by unknown female voice behind him saying, “Good mornin’, agents.” The woman Q told them about. He still didn’t turn round and scanned the tunnel, because the Probe seemed to have some positive results very soon.

Murray did turn and introduced both of them to the woman, using their code names. “002 and 007.” He figured out who that woman was, obviously. 

“Sophie Smith,” she said. Her voice was soft, young and with a hint of west-London accent. “The bomb is on the opposite direction’s platform, by the way. It was in the rails at Westminster, so I guess it is there at this station as well. Although, I don’t know how they managed to place the explosives there without touching the electrified rails…”

So that was the highly-valued backup? Bond couldn’t decide whether she sounded clever or stupid. Kind of both, actually.

The feeling of another Time Lord still hasn’t worn off – in fact, it was at its strongest. He had a really bad feeling about that Smith woman. Firstly, it was an alias, not her real name. Bond had learnt to recognise fake names when he heard them and ‘Sophie Smith’ clearly was one of them, judging by the tone in her voice when she introduced herself, among other things. 

“We know that, actually, Ms Smith. Securing the whole area is the usual procedure. And you’re late,” 002 replied. He was right, she was late. And both of them doubted she could help them in any way. 

Bond turned to face her at last. She was tall and thin, about 25 years old, with long, brown hair and neutral make-up, dressed in black pencil skirt, stilettos, red checked scarf and a beige trench coat. There was a small, black handbag on her left shoulder. She was rather pretty, he noticed. Like those he had to exploit to gain information necessary for completing a mission so often. And she also lacked clothes layers for middle February. 

“Apologies, 002, but I was delayed by dealing with the _other three_ , which took me ‘bout ten minutes _altogether_ to disable. All defused, out of order. You’re welcome, no need to thank me. Let’s go and have a look at the other platform, shall we?” 

So Ms Smith was overly confident in herself and a little bit sarcastic as well, Bond noted. She reminded him of someone he knew a very long time ago, back home in Arcadia. 

Oh, how much he wished it were her, his first love, and not one of the invaders. 

But if she _were_ the invader, why would she defuse the bombs? That did not make much sense. 

She undoubtedly was a Time Lady. Who else would be able to defuse Gallifreyan bombs in the first place? 

Ms Smith immediately took charge of the operation and quickly strode across the grey cobbles to the nearest way out. Her heels clicked on the surface loudly and the way she moved and dressed reminded both Double-Ohs of a trained field agent. She might have been, for all they knew.

They came to the railing separating the whole place in two, preventing people from getting even more confused than they already were in the labyrinthine infrastructure of corridors, stairs, platforms and tunnels. Ms Smith simply climbed over it and didn’t care about her skirt or other people’s looks. The MI6 agents obediently followed suit and all three of them came to the Harrow & Wealdstone platform. A train was just standing there, thus they had to wait, if what she said was true and the bomb was in the rails. 

Bond hoped it wasn’t her and she won’t blast the explosive off right beneath the train to cause as much damage as possible. He really, really hoped. 

And if another thing she had said was true and she disabled all the other bombs herself, why were they helping her?

Bond determined that woman was not a traitor. What he thought before – if she were the one to set the bombs, why would she be helping the government to defuse them? There had to be another one, or just someone who used their technology, but didn’t come from Gallifrey. And Bond had thought his life couldn’t get any crazier by now. 

“007!” the supposed Time Lady shouted at Bond all of a sudden, stopped walking and turned to him.

“Yes, Ms Smith?” he replied innocently, not letting her know he has an inkling of who she actually was. He gave her one of his seductive smiles. 

“C’mere,” she said, waving her hand at him, not minding the other man walking right next to him, “I need to convey something with you.”

“And what might that be, something about the bombs?” Bond asked, as if he really did not have a clue what it was about and closed the distance of few metres between them, walking rather slowly. Left-behind 002 switched on the earpiece and asked the Quartermaster something about the mission. 

“Not exactly.” Ms Smith grabbed Bond’s forearm when he got close enough with quite the strength. So she knew what Bond was as well as he knew what she was. However, he still had no idea which particular Time Lady she was, whereas she recognised him immediately and knew exactly who he was. 

When she touched him, a wave of energy ran through both their bodies. It was very strong, and that meant they must have known each other. It was almost as strong as when Q touched him, or caressed him, or kissed him. 

“How did you get here? I mean, on Earth. How did you escape the War?” she started questioning Bond, whispering and looking him in the eye. She let go of his forearm and they started walking toward desired destination, which happened to be the tunnel on the opposite end of the platform. 

“I beg your pardon?” he acted like he didn’t feel the energy at all. He acted as if he weren’t a Time Lord and as if he didn’t descry her origin. James Bond was testing her, because if she really was someone he knew, and already had a suspicion who, she would be doing the same. Time Lords were clever, calculating beings after all.

“Don’t play possum; you’re a Time Lord from planet Gallifrey, Bond,” Ms Smith – or what was her name anyway – told him the whole story with no song and dance. She knew who he was, because she used his name, Bond, and he never mentioned that. It was only a moniker he used during his days on this planet, but if she knew that name, she must have known the real one – the one he was being called by on the Academy; the one Q sometimes still called him when they were curled in bed together and talking instead of sleep, which Gallifreyans didn’t need as frequently as humans.

“How—who are you?” Bond continued in their little game.

“A Gallifreyan as you, who else. First-name terms?” she suggested, because they were on such, years ago. 

“Sure, _Sophie_ ,” he replied mockingly, emphasising her name to acknowledge her with the fact he knows it isn’t her real name, and stepped even closer to the Time Lady.

“Answer the question, how?” Ms Smith hissed dryly, changing the subject. She wondered how he could do it, since not many Time Lords managed to escape the War, and so did Bond. 

“I got out before the War. Rassilon has sent me on a mission, my time capsule got into a fix and I flew away. I got stuck here, end of the story,” Bond explained with ease and casualness unusual for sharing personal information, especially the real ones and not fake stories he had created as a necessity for a hundred-percent plausibility of living under an identity of a certain James Bond. “You?”

“I ran away when the Time War was at its commencement. With my sister. We took our TARDIS and—” 

“Equinaran?!” he interrupted her in the midst of a sentence, when Ms Smith’s identity was confirmed by her story. Of course he has heard about that, the unconscionable rebellion of a Chancellor. Everyone has heard about that. “Is that really you?”

Bond stopped walking and caught the Time Lady by her shoulders, making her look him in the eye again. She was forced to do nothing but stop and stay in the uncomfortable position. People had to pass round them as they walked out to the escalators. The train still was there.

Apparently, she stopped pretending she didn’t know who Bond was either, because she said, fake surprised, “Kaston. Kartrig! Blimey, _you_ are James Bond— _the_ James Bond?” She said a little bit too loud, because few passer-bys turned their head in the pair’s direction.

The earlier rapture ebbed when both of them realised what that all actually meant. They remembered Gallifrey and good old times on the Academy, the mission Bond was sent on, the original reason why he was there and why he was who he was. All because of her and one word she uttered more than thirty years ago, one _no_. 

It _was_ Lady Equinaran-Maraa after all. He still did not believe it quite well. 

He thought he would never see her again; the only other person beside Quintus and Vesper Lynd he ever actually and truly loved. The person who brought love and adventures into his life in the first place. The only person who could pacify his mother and get along with her without the older woman trying to kill her. The person who said she never wanted to see him and avoided him for decades and then ended up in the same city on the same planet, standing face to face with him in the Underground, working together on the same assignment. 

“Yes, I happen to be James Bond,” he finally brings himself to reply after a moment of recalling the past and forgetting the rushing world round him. “And I see you’ve regenerated. I always thought you were that kind of a person who doesn’t just recklessly court death. How many times?” 

The everlasting, solemn mask of elite MI6 agent as if fell off and he was a completely different person round her, just as he was round Q. She was his first love after all, and he couldn’t forget her. Not even now, when he had Quintus, because Equinaran was Equinaran and he _never_ ceased to love her. Besides, Q always loved her too, Bond knew that. He was always terribly jealous of him for dating her, whereas he was only a seventh wheel in their gang. It was obvious in spite of the denial he was in. He wouldn’t admit it even to himself. 

“Um…” Equinaran as if checked herself, unable to find words for the first time since the Blood-Coloured Lake Evening. 

“Once, the face I am currently wearing is my second. Dalek and all that… And you did for six times, face number seven, I know that. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna defuse that bomb and go. I didn’t want to see you; you’re nothing more than trouble and distraction. I’m sorry,” she said frankly and a bit angrily, and it wasn’t even near to an answer Bond was expecting to hear from her.

 _How could she survive assault by a Dalek? That was all but possible, even for Equinaran._

Ms Smith started to walk again, pulling away from Bond’s hold. The train was picking up speed and leaving the station already, so they could execute what they came here to do, an empty platform offered great help. 002 was nowhere in sight.

Bond caught up with her and tried to stop her walking by clutching her left arm. “It’s 52 years, Nar. You cannot avoid me forever, especially now when we live in the very same city and share the same acquaintances. Gallifrey’s not coming back. We should talk,” he pushed her, but she didn’t turn back. Instead, she stared into the wall, pouting.

“‘Bout what? We both know how things were. It would never work. We were too young; it’s not exactly customary on Gallifrey for Time Lords to marry before servin’ out their minimum in the Council or CIA as in your case. Well, but then again, your family always was an exception in that rule… End of discussion. Anythin’ else? I should follow 002 to the rail to finally deactivate that last bomb. Sonic pen, y’know.” 

She broke free from her ex-boyfriend and almost ran to get away from him, yet he caught up with her and stopped her once more. “Please. Just one dinner. We haven’t seen each other for 52 years, Equinaran—”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” the resentful Time Lady shouted and tried to loosen Bond’s tight grip, determined to end the conversation, nonetheless unsuccessfully. 

“One dinner and I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never see me again, perhaps at work only, but we should talk. I understand it – you try to save the day and end conflicts as my father. You two are practically the same, and that is why I plead you to at least consider my offer,” Bond urged, demanding for attention like his and Q’s felines. “Just speak to me, Naran.”

He didn’t mean the invitation for a dinner in a romantic manner. He had Q now, and Equinaran of course did not know that. She thought he was trying to get her back – and if he did, Q wouldn’t object—in fact, he would probably join the two of them and they would start living in one house as a rather odd trinity of Time Lords –, he knew her very well. And he might have sounded selfish, but this was Equinaran he was talking about. Not many people were lucky enough to know a scion of Rassilon. 

“Yeah, you may be right in that, but I’m not going to go for dinner with you. We both know all too well how would _that_ end.” 

In the meantime, 002 has emerged at the right side if the platform, the part Bond and Ms Smith were heading for before. They were on a mission to urgently disable very dangerous bombs and those were arguing, he thought. Bond and women, typical. One would think he’d leave them alone off missions when he had a partner, but no. He couldn’t but wait until those two sort whatever they had a dispute over; looking for the bomb was pointless at the moment. 

“Come on, I am literally begging you, and that isn’t something one would hear often. Once,” Bond purred, putting on his best persuasive face. He still tried to convince her to go. He was resolute to get that date. Friendly date. Or not?

“No,” she held her ground firmly and got out of Bond’s arm’s reach at last.

“Lunch then,” Bond suggested as sort of a compromise. Lunch sounded more as a friendly talk and less than a romantic date. 

Although, he wouldn’t exactly protest, if it _were_ a date. As he said, this was Equinaran and he should never throw away a chance of getting that girl back when there might have been one. He believed he still could fix the convoluted sort of a relationship they had. She used to be the love of his life and he has never ever forgotten about her. She might have been stubborn, excessively stout-hearted, too self-confident, bossy and thinking she could do everything herself with no one’s help, but so has James Bond. They were basically as one.

He has never met a woman alike her, regardless he had met plenty. They knew each other for 226 years after all, and that could have been counted as quite the time. There was a soft, romantic soul deep inside her as in any other person, she could believe it or not. She disclosed that part inside James Bond long ago after all. That part couldn’t still be mad at him, now could it?

She concentrated on her job and making the good of it only, overloaded herself with work, thought she had to carry the burden of saving the world on her shoulders, that it was only up to her to seek justice for Earth and its inhabitants, and that she was the only one capable and worthy of stopping all evil that presented itself, although it wasn’t true in the least. Naran also kept forgetting she wasn’t alone. She was a solitaire and didn’t like working in teams; she’d probably say other people are only slowing her down and don’t help at all, but even a Chancellor can be wrong sometimes. Bond knew her problem and stance on teamwork, and he was exactly the right person to understand her, because he didn’t enjoy company of other humans either. However, sometimes they were inevitable. If it weren’t for M, Q and Moneypenny, he might have been dead long ago as well, or in the last of a Time Lord’s regenerations at any rate. 

He wanted to help the person he knew to get out and blossom out again.

“Nothing.”

“Takeaway.” 

“I don’t eat that shit.”

“A cup of coffee then.”

“In a fish and chip shop.”

“Café.”

“A small one.”

“In the evening.”

“Morning.”

“Date.”

“Amicable appointment. I say _amicable_.”

“Today.”

“Another time.”

“Tomorrow.”

“I’ve got pancakes.”

“I’ll come over.”

“Not an option.”

“Take them with you.”

“I’ll eat ‘em myself.”

“After lunch.”

“Alright then.”

“Where?”

“The centre.”

“Expensive.”

“Sonic equals brass. Plus since when do you care ‘bout money?”

“Not a kiosk. Costa?”

“No. A friendly café.”

“Wesley’s Café, Storey’s Gate.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Bond smiled and Ms Smith rolled her eyes. 

_So he talked me round after all. I simply can’t resist, can I? Foolish me!_ Bond overheard one of her very loud thoughts unintentionally and his smile grew wider. 

Naran has agreed after all, giving up. Everyone would eventually surrender to his charms and Time Lord suggestive, captivating hypnotising ability – that was why he was the best agent MI6 had and why every man and woman would fall into his arms and bed right away. Even an annoyingly stubborn persona as her. 

She started walking again. This time, Bond let her do her job and stepped aside, following after her. 

“Ms Smith, the train’s gone, can you two stop chatting and go and defuse the bomb, since you seem to be the experts?” agent 002 interrupted Bond and Smith’s more or less one-word conversation impatiently, and Bond realised he had forgotten about his companion. 

Yes, there still was a task to accomplish and they still hadn’t got a clue who was behind it all. Finding out was almost of the same importance as turning the bombs off per se. 

“Sophie and I were only arranging something, Murray. We know. She already took up the task.” 

Bond had to be careful to use her alias and not the name she used to go by within her Academy years. He almost let it slip. 

“So it’s _Sophie_ now, isn’t it? I hate to disturb your little chat, but we’re in the middle of a mission.”

“Everything’s fine, you’re not disturbing anything at all, 002. Be sure there’s nothing between the two of us—well, not anymore. We know each other from time immemorial,” Equinaran assured Murray, preoccupied by the aim of the mission and absentminded. “That explosive is on the rails, I’m certain of it. Step aside, let me go to the edge and pretend you haven’t seen anything.”

That was probably meant for Bond’s colleague, since 007 knew what she was about to do. He looked at 002, who opened his mouth to ask a question, but considered it idle and shut the mouth again. He stood at the wall and observed. There was nothing more he could do at the moment. 

As presumed, Equinaran pulled a sonic device from that handbag. She squatted down at the edge of the platform and shone her sonic whatever in the tunnel, scanning for said explosive. In approximately two seconds, she got up again with a self-confident, mysterious smile on her lips. 

Bond couldn’t refrain from thinking she looked great and that face suited her even better than the first – a blonde with red strings and little plaits in her hair, pale skin and always a bit of a rebel with necklaces, bracelets and lots of earrings. That wide, sweet and enigmatic grin of her old self on this, even more beautiful face would make everyone skip a beat. Or two, actually. 

She has changed a lot, but deep inside, there was the same person. He knew that. The same girl he has fallen for (in a tight and short skirt as a bonus), although it was more than unusual in the Time Lord society of bureaucrats and hypocritical, cold observers and guardians of the universe, who did nothing more than sit and chat about nonsense. 

He did not understand how could that wild soul join that lot and sit next to the Lord President at first, but he got it perfectly now. Everyone had a purpose and everyone changed at some point of their life. 

As did he. Immensely. 

“Mission accomplished, London saved,” she announced, and Bond thought that was way too quick to be true. That bad feeling that something was going to happen still hasn’t worn off and he felt it in his gut. 

Ms Smith hid her sonic pen back into the small handbag and turned to look inside the tunnel for one more time, as if she were assuring herself the strange Gallifreyan bomb truly was non-functional now. 

“Bye, agent Murray. See ya tomorrow, James, but only to get rid of you, do you understand?” she said when she switched her attention back to the agents and stressed her last words by poking Bond in his chest with her index finger in a friendly but banter-y manner. 

She averted he gaze from them and decided to head toward the stairs, but 002 stopped her from doing so by raising one of his thick eyebrows and asking, “What, that was it?” 

He was rather surprised and looked a bit disappointed as well; he expected this to be more adventurous and like a standard mission for a Double-Oh. “The whole mission? I could’ve stayed at home.”

“Well, to be honest, I thought this assignment for something far bigger as well,” Equinaran admitted, cocking her head to the side. 

“I guess sometimes rumour precedes reality and this was exactly the case. It’s 8:05 only,” she checked her digital watch similar to those Q always wore on his wrist and looked at Murray again, “you still can manage everything you wanted to do. Anything else? Questions? No? Goodbye once more, I must go to the other side, changing to Central.”

Ms Smith turned on her heel and walked away from the two Double-Ohs with those words. She actually did not wait for questions and Bond was quite sure 002 had one or three.

He was fairly surprised when he caught the information she was going to use the Tube – he thought a woman like her would have got a TARDIS and not travel by underground trains with the hoi polloi. 

She weaved her way through the forming crowds of people streaming on the platform and disappeared in the first way-out. 

Bond did one more quick scan to make sure the bomb was dealt with and reported it to Q, although he was sure he must have known by now. Equinaran said she had defused the other three on her own before the agents were on their positions. 

Q’s answer affirmed his assumption. It was true and of course the agents _and_ M were cross with her. That was who Equinaran was. 

However, he did not tell Q who the mysterious Ms Smith was. He can save the good news for later, he didn’t want to stress his husband even more. 

“Who exactly is that girl?” 002 asked Bond when they started to move as well. He looked at Bond in a way that screamed _explain what the hell has just happened_ , but managed to keep a straight face even so. 

“Just someone I used to know when I was young and we haven’t seen each other in – it would feel like – decades.”

He did not mention it in fact were decades. No one except Q and M knew what he was, that he was not human. It had to stay that way. He had to preserve his cover. 

Every time he has regenerated, M pretended and told everyone the old 007 had died or retired and every other of his faces were his replacements to the position of James Bond, code name 007. Everyone had swallowed her bait, not questioning anything. It was common agents died on difficult missions and there was no body to be found and buried. 

And it was exactly the same way with the Quartermaster. When he changed from Boothroyd into his descendent and then into the current, younger body, they ‘took him to hospital and he, sadly, passed away.’ It came with the job – things exploded all the time, so no one wondered about that too much as well, mourned their beloved or less beloved Quartermasters and M introduced the young man as another chief of Q-Branch and R&D. 

It was not easy, to live like that among humans. They sometimes suspected a thought, when they overheard the double heartbeat or questioned how come they didn’t eat or sleep and yet stayed fit and sprightly, how come they don’t seem to age or how come they never go see a doctor even with the worst of injuries, after which they, Bond in particular, were back in service immediately and pretended nothing had happened. 

Murray had known Bond for a long time and he knew what kind of man and spy he was, so it was an answer sufficient enough for him, or at least it would appear so. The range of Bond’s psychic abilities weren’t even remotely close to Equinaran’s, yet he could feel his colleague still demanded for answers inside his sceptic human brain. 

He couldn’t give him any. He could be glad everyone at Six was loyal, obedient and capable of giving their life away to keep a secret, and thus there was no need of using a neuraliser or amnesia dart on him after what he saw happening in front of the tunnel. 

002 saw a woman defusing a bomb with a little, long thingy that made a strange buzzing noise and glowed blue, and the whole case took few seconds. He saw more strange devices in both Bond and her hands that weren’t from Q. He saw the way Bond and she looked at each other and talked to each other. There was something going on and he was going to figure it out, definitely. 

The agents left the station in relative peace and quick pace, successfully avoiding people’s gazes and groping hands that might search their pockets for money, phones and things beyond their imagination, especially when it concerned Bond’s bigger-on-the-inside pockets. 

When they heard out another report from Q, in which he gave them further instructions, asked questions and at last considered the task as fulfilled, they already reached their car and got in to head back to HQ. 

They supposedly had time off now and that meant they had the entire day for themselves. That was good to hear for once. Besides, Bond had something to look forward to, a date over a coffee on Storey’s Gate with _Equinaran_. Lady Equinaran-Maraa of Blyledge, the great great great granddaughter of Rassilon, the Chancellor at the Inner Council, the inheritor of the presidential chair. If there still were a chair to sit in and a planet to rule. 

Of course she had survived the war, of course she had escaped. His brilliant Naran, she must have. The universe would collapse if she didn’t. It all made sense, actually. If there were someone to escape only to think up a plan to stop it all from happening and reverse the score in the Time Lords’ behalf, it was definitely her. Because she must have had a plan, she wouldn’t run away because she was angry, cowardly and acted out of spite. He heard the story a thousand times and although that was exactly what everyone stated, he knew her and knew it was not the truth. 

His lips spread into another absentminded smile as he thought of her and the brilliant news he had yet to tell Q. Perhaps he could even bring the boffin with him tomorrow and if they were lucky, it might end in—

All of a sudden, the car has stopped, precipitous. It disturbed Bond’s thoughts and made him look in front of him to see what was going on. 002 cursed under his breath. What seemed to have been a usual, short-run morning traffic jam round Oxford and Regent Street was _not_ just a traffic jam. Something major has happened. 

Both Double-Ohs got off the car, closed the doors and looked around them. Police forces and Underground staff were everywhere, surrounded by clumps of confused passengers and tourists, answering their questions. 002 promptly ran to a policewoman nearest their SUV and started to question her. Bond ran after him and when he got to them, all he heard was ‘bomb’, ‘Tube’, ‘terrorists’ and ‘catastrophe’. 

Ambulances and fire brigade arrived to the Tube entrance in the middle of the long, crowded shopping street and the sirens were on, loud. Long motorcades began to form along the street already and those, which stopped too close to the subway entrance, had to ineptly retreat to the streets, but to do that, the cars and double-deckers behind them must back as well, which was impossible. The situation was stuck and with no good solution.

It was bloody 8am, what is London going to do in the afternoon? 

Bond caught a glimpse of a black UNIT jeep and soldiers in black uniforms with firearms and scientific machines in their hands, marching toward the subway and making the police – inappropriate forces for this task – withdraw and leave it to them. 

The police did not know much yet, but one thing was certain – there were five bombs, not four. And one of them went off. 

How come neither Q nor Naran has detected that? It was their bloody job to do! No one said anything, no one knew anything. However, it has happened. A Time Lord explosive blew up in the middle of London Underground, destroyed one tunnel entirely and killed hundreds of people, if not more. 

The policewoman also said something about a power cut in the whole Tube. No trains could go and transport passengers across the city, although they were miles away from epicentre of the huge explosion. 

That Time Lord, be it whoever, had what they had wanted. They caused panic and trouble to all of London, and not just it. Whole world is going to be shaken by the news, as always. Security measures are going to intensify and tighten up. More terrorist groups all over the planet are going to take this as inspiration and continue in ravaging, destroying and killing. 

They didn’t even need to take over the planet to rule it; they will rule by fear. Humans are easily frightened and they will do what the invaders want without even knowing it. 

With that conclusion, Bond assessed it couldn’t have been his mother. The Doctor would have brought an end to it if it were her, just like he always did. Besides, that wasn’t her style. She would have brought and army over and conquer Earth if she wanted it. Unsuccessfully, but she would have tried to do just that. Bombs under one street in one small city – that did not sound like her whatsoever. 

MI6 will not have time to rest. This was internal matter, but as M said, when it concerned terrorists, it was their job to do as well. Plus it was Bond’s liability to take care of this. It came from another planet, the planet of his origin. These bombs were also MI7’s concern and he was something as Moneypenny was to M in said section of Military Intelligence. The boss’s right hand. 

“And do you know where exactly has the explosion occurred, miss?” Murray asked. They needed to know as many details as they could. Bond switched on his earpiece and called Q again.

She talked to one of her colleagues via radio and when she found out all she needed, she answered, “It was under a Bakerloo Line train; that is all we know so far.” 

Bond’s face stiffened. Didn’t Equinaran say something about changing to Central? Because the only possible stop where Bakerloo and Central Line crossed was Oxford Circus, even he knew that, although he used the Tube maybe three or four times in his life to actually travel somewhere. 

He practically had a map of London above and under the ground in his head, memorised, and this was one of the points, in which it somehow arose and displayed a large, blinking exclamation mark with the place on a Tube map behind it in front of his eyes to alert him something was very wrong.

He tried to reach the Time Lady mentally, but they spent too many years apart sans a second of contact, so the link was rather rusty and he was incapable of getting to her. It was either that, or she was knocked out. Perhaps even worse – dead or regenerating – but Bond did not want to think of any premature conclusions.

Bond was nervous and worried, and that did not happen often. He didn’t mind the crowds or 002 and pulled his Probe out at once. He held the small, thin device in his hand, unlocked it and tapped few Gallifreyan circles swirling round the display. He launched a scan in order to localise the explosion’s impact, occurred damage, life signs and all traces of Time Lord beings and technologies. 

Bond pointed the device in front of him and observed the fast-moving images of the street and its subterranean spaces, including Tube tunnels. After few seconds, it started to slow down and a large red spot appeared on the screen. The image shifted underground and the red space showed the devastated area in red-and-blue, smudged, as if x-ray shapes. 

He could see the wreck of a train, pieces of scattered metal, stone, plastic and human bodies. The Probe calculated, how many dead and living people were inside, extent of damage, probability of putting the train and tunnel back to original state, which compound and type of bomb has caused the explosion, and finally, registered a sign of alive yet unconscious Time Lady lying on the floor in one of the relatively undamaged cars. 

She was lucky she got on in the front, where the fire from the shock wave didn’t reach yet and devastation wasn’t as severe. And all of London was hell of a lucky it was only a small electromagnetic pulsar bomb, not one that could create a hole in space-time or pull the entire train within it when going off. 

While he thought about it, 007 made out that the explosion was supposed to bring attention of a certain person or people toward the terrorist and not cause a catastrophe of worldwide extent. Nevertheless, he had no clue if it was meant for his father, Equinaran, himself or somebody completely different. Was the secret message intended for a Time Lord at all? 

Despite the eerie circumstances of the attack and a restless feeling goading him into investigating and get answers, Bond hasn’t felt so relieved before in his life. She was alive. Everything was alright, just as alright as things could have been in the moment of a horrible tragedy. He actually sighed in relief when he discovered the good news.

He pocketed the Probe and then he noticed both the policewoman and 002 were staring at him. To them, the device only looked like a really thin, dark and transparent phone; yet it was something one does not see every day anyway. 

“One of the Quartermaster’s newest inventions,” he said solemnly and looked up to see if things have moved the right way. The lady knew they were MI6 and as for Murray, saying something was Q’s usually sufficed. “Never mind that, we have to go and check the situation. It were terrorists and someone still might—”

“United Nations have it under their control, mister. You two still technically are civilians and so mustn’t go anywhere near the tape,” another policeman – no, a DS – stepped in their conversation and basically told them to get lost and not care about it. That was more than suspicious. “Armed response unit, firemen and pyrotechnics are taking care of the explosion and possible terrorists. Medics are going inside to secure and transport all casualties and injured after the fire is extinguished and Metropolitan Police is doing their best to regulate the traffic. The next days are going to be literal hell, I believe, but we are sure there is no need for MI6 to intervene. Yet.”

Bond opened his mouth to utter a sarcastic response, but nothing clever came to his mind and he let it go. There was not really a point in arguing with that man, unless he used the gift of hypnotism Time Lords possessed by, he could feel it. Besides, he knew whoever implanted the bombs in the rails and activated them was not there and did it remotely. Going inside the fire and wreckage would help nothing in his private investigation. 

He had Q, and Equinaran was surely going to get out unharmed and unshaken. If the three of them join forces, tech and knowledge, they are going to find out and detect the malefactor eventually. For all he caught during his and Naran’s conversation, she still had a TARDIS; that should make it significantly easier. 

He couldn’t save those humans anyway. What had happened had happened. It was a fixed point in time, even owning a time machine was pointless in that matter. Thus, he had no other option than reconciliation with the fact they were not going down there. He could figure out from Q-Branch as well, and when it did not concern any figure known to the British Government, snooping around at the crime scene was none of his business. 

There were more of larger and devastating catastrophes across the universe he had to face. This was nothing, compared to what he had seen as a Celestial Intervention Agency agent. Wars, genocides, unmerciful abattoir. Horrible, sure, but quite common on this depraved, sick world he was now a part of. There was a larger attack practically every month and a small one every day, somewhere in a backstreet, Asian desert or a city centre, it didn’t matter. It was all the same. 

As a Gallifreyan, Kaston-Kartrig has learnt to observe and not intervene. As a son of his parents, he has learnt the exact opposite, but he could see that this time he ought to choose the first option. He – they – can solve the case from safe distance, just like the Council did it. To fight by wits and minds and not by weapons and violence. 

This time, only this time, Bond gave up, backed off and let humans do the job, because they will cope, somehow. As they always did. As a secret agent, he did the dirtiest work only. He killed irreversible bad people whom history won’t miss, people that might change the course Earth and its inhabitants went forever and create a paradox of immense scale not even he or the rest of the Gallifreyan race wandering about through the universe could fix with leaving no consequences. 

He saw more behind events like this. He saw the whole picture. It was cause, and somewhere and sometime else, the effect came to light, or will come. They who caused it knew that too. They knew it would lead to bigger occurrences and only those would get into a passer-by’s, more than which the Doctor was not, attention. It was certainly meant for someone who can see into the fabric of time, unravel it and come to that very place to fight their battles to preserve the course of time remained unchanged. Or to someone, who is equally clever and canny as a Gallifreyan – someone like M or the brothers Holmes. 

Bond still could operate from the background and unwind the complex puzzle the Gallifreyan attacker had left for the rest of his kind to solve. There was a lot behind it, hidden clues and pieces, snippets only members of a society of such intelligent species as Gallifreyans could gather. It _was_ his liability, but one he could see about indirectly. 

“If that is so, DS, we will continue on our way to Headquarters, observe the situation from computer screens and try to find and capture the terrorists,” Bond replied with a smirk on his face, nodded and turned round to get on the car again. “Come along, George, they don’t require our assistance and it’s for the best if we leave them to it.”

It was half true. No one needed Double-Oh agents there and they – Q, Bond and maybe Equinaran – _will_ try to find and capture the ‘terrorists’. 

What Bond had said left a surprised look on Murray’s face, since he absolutely hasn’t seen that coming. He was wont to Bond going against any orders and doing what he thought was a right thing to do in a situation like this. He did not expect Bond to consider a withdrawal to be the right thing to do. He always looked for a backdoor, a way to bypass protocols, anything. 

And then Murray thought it was another one of Bond’s games and that he will want to go away, park the car behind the corner and climb inside through the sewers. He followed him and when he sat in the driver seat, he asked, “Where are we going and what are we doing?”

He expected Bond to reveal a complicated plan of sneaking in the tunnels or something, but he definitely did not expect this: “We are doing exactly what I said we are doing, heading back to HQ. If we manage to get out of here.”

002 kept his mouth shut, only raised his eyebrows and furrowed his forehead while doing so. In his mind, he said _Really? That is your plan?_ but uttered nothing aloud. 

Yes, getting of there might have been a problem. They stood at the edge of the road in a bus lane, forced to stand there since other cars blocked the street. They were only few metres from the nearest turn, although if the policemen won’t organise the traffic properly and systematically, they might be stuck there for a good hour. 

Bond switched on the radio again and said, “Q, we are heading back. You know what to do.”

_“Yes, James. I analysed the explosion, replayed the situation on the Probe and scanned everything already. It was a Time Lord. I am searching for them and trying to gather all information and little, unacknowledged mistakes they might have made that could be crucial in pinpointing their identity. There was a sign of Gallifreyan life form in one of the cars; I think it was definitely one of those who are behind the incident.”_

“No, it was not. Trust me on that, Q. I cannot say more now,” Bond almost shouted the reply to the comm. Q didn’t know about Equinaran. He was going to tell him everything once he was in his lab. He indeed couldn’t say more, so he added the last sentence in telepathic waves only, _Make sure you are alone in your lab when we arrive so I could tell you everything I know._

Well, there would be nothing suspicious about that, but 002 would question him again and mock him for wanting to shag Q in the lab when they get back, because that was what it sounded like to someone who read the minimum of actual reality behind his behaviour.

_“One more thing – the train started move forwards to Green Park. I don’t know how that is possible when the power is still down, but the four front cars shine with light and move by themselves.”_

Oh. That was rather odd, one would think, but Bond knew the truth. It was Equinaran, couldn’t be anything or anyone else. She had abilities beyond Time Lord’s capabilities since she was a Time Tot and this only meant it grew stronger and she was powerful enough to move a train. 

He loved her even more by every moment, just like he fell in love for the first time. He got to know more and more special little things about her and that impressed him. 

Bond did not reply, yet left the comm line open, in case Q reported him any news, and waited. In few moments, the car started to move forward as the police finally decided what the best solution to the traffic problem was. The ride took longer than pleasant, but they arrived to London Bridge soon and parked the car in underground car park. 

002 rushed upstairs to get to the offices and expected 007 to follow suit, but when he saw the other agent bursting through the door to service staircase leading downwards, he understood. Bond had some more important business with the Quartermaster and Murray left him to it. M hopefully won’t be mad. 

Bond ran down the stairs as fast as he could. When he arrived to Q-Branch premises, he allowed himself to stop, slow down and calm down his racing, double heartbeat. He saw Quintus running round the large, touch-screen table switched from primary and customary English to Gallifreyan for better comfort in manipulation and doing all possible moves to determine what exactly has happened and whose work it was. 

He scanned, probed, analysed, checked cameras, everything. A reconstruction of the incident flew in the air above the table in 3D, over and over, like a video on a loop. The image with all details was certainly superior to his little Probe.

And then he noticed it – in one second, the bomb blew up under one of the cars and fire spread through the tunnel both ways, but after approximately twenty seconds as if it extinguished itself. The fire was simply gone. 

Q looked up from the processes running on the screen and noticed Bond at last. 

“Ah, hello, James,” he greeted him, but he was lost in his mind and all the calculations. Q barely registered anything and had that look on his face signalling he was deeply engrossed in work and one should not mess with him. Bond knew how grumpy Time Lords could be when someone interrupted them in the middle of an important task. Nonetheless, he had noticed Bond’s gaze fixed on the animations. 

“You saw that, did you not? The fire was there and in another second it wasn’t. Soon after that, the lights inexplicably switched on. Not even a minute later, it started to move. There was no power, all lights were broken, there was wreckage and bodies, everything was destroyed by the explosion and the train was technically incapable of moving; yet it somehow _did_ ,” he continued, not giving Bond any time to explain what lay behind his theories, “and I think I know what – or rather who – was behind it. I targeted on that Time Lord in particular, and guess what? Right before the lights went on they had moved and gotten up. I know you said to ‘trust you on that’, James, but I am not sure. I have a bad feeling about it—”

“Stop. Q, stop… stop quoting _Star Wars_ and let me talk,” Bond interrupted his husband before he got too deep in theorising and held him off with the actual truth. He approached Q and held his chin between two fingers to make him look him in the eye. He continued telepathically: _Just listen to me, Quintus. I’d advise you to sit down, because what’s coming might be a shock._

Q raised his eyebrow questioningly, but took the nearest place suitable for sitting on, which meant the floor under the table, anyway. _Well, go on_ , he prompted Bond. 

The Double-Oh sat next to him and decided to speak aloud again. He averted his gaze from Q and observed the empty furniture in front of him instead. “You remember that asset of Mycroft’s, who did not need our help at all and defused all bombs by herself?”

“Ms Smith? Yes, of course I do.”

“Well, she was the Time Lady from the train. She was no terrorist, no. She came to help, as you could see for yourself on that animation. Because if she were one of those who caused it, why she would bother with saving the people’s lives and getting them out in the first place?” Bond explained and Q could see he did have a point. That was what he told himself over and over again. But if he really were right, it would mean there was another Gallifreyan in London, and not just any Gallifreyan. An evil and intriguing one. 

“But that is not everything in the least. Do you have a clue who she was?”

“I don’t, James, what a stupid question. Now, get to the point, or I’ll extract it from your mind by means more unpleasant.” 

Bond was beating around the bush and could not bring himself to say what he came there to say. Q wanted to hear it; he wanted to believe in what he claimed. 

“That girl was Equinaran, Q.”

That honestly _had_ shocked Q, just as Bond said. Everyone considered that Time Lady, their friend, dead. No one, not even Q, believed she could survive the escape and t was even more shocking that she ended up on planet Earth in the system of Sol 3. 

“Equinaran? As in _the_ Equinaran, _our_ Equinaran? Your Shadow Princess?” 

“Do you know any other Time Lady of that name, Q? Of course it was our Naran. She is alive,” Bond looked back at Q. “She is bloody alive, bloody beautiful, lives in this godforsaken city and does what the Doctor does, with her very enhanced and perfected abilities. The best part is that I’m going on a date with her tomorrow. I could squeeze you in too, if you wished to meet our Great Rebellious Chancellor.”

“You still think of dating in spite of current events? Moreover, am I not enough for you?”

Bond took Q’s hand in his and leant forward to give him a soft and gentle kiss on his lips. “Of course you are enough for me, sweethearts, but don’t tell me you don’t still love her and wouldn’t want to have a little fun and another member of our little, odd, alien family. She’s the only Time Lady here that’s not related to me in any way, and besides, she would be a significant help in the Underground case.”

“Oh for Rassilon’s sake, K, you are an insufferable prick sometimes,” Q snorted and rolled his eyes, but deep inside he knew Bond was right, in both matters. Equinaran was the cleverest person Q knew and she perhaps would be able to ascertain things they could not. And who wouldn’t fall in love with her? 

“And I hate to admit you are right, Naran with all her knowledge would solve this case in few hours. She was there when it happened, saw everything and stopped it before the fire burned everything and everyone in its way. We do need someone with different perspective of the incident.”

“Oh, then wait until I tell you the rest of my hypotheses.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna know what happens next - who was the attacker or how the date goes, read this: [Old Enemy Returns](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6554824). Or not. It's my writing beginnings, very long, from Equinaran's POV (Bond's too, but only for a piece) and also 1st person POV. Kinda shite.  
> If you wanna know what happened between Equinaran and Bond on Gallifrey, read 1st chapter of this: [Old Friend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6274891/chapters/14377897). That one's better. The second chapter is just this again, from her POV and non-edited dialogue. 
> 
> I might actually continue in this. Maybe. I'm planning to give this OT3 a series on its own, although stories with OCs aren't very popular and almost no one reads them, which is a shame, because they're usually good as 'normal' fanfics. 
> 
> And yeah, Bond is the Doctor and Master's child. Or Mistress', in this case. And no, Naran isn't just an ordinary Time Lady. Not telling who she is XD


End file.
